Raridan
by DragonChild85
Summary: A hunt goes wrong, leaving Dean cold, wet and miserable. Sam tries to help.


_Okay, so I did a little creative-license fabrication here. Raridan is a true legend around here, and I'm going straight off the myth here. The licensing factor is that Raridan's Rock is actually split in two now, with a road between the two, instead of below, where there's a river between Raridan's Rock and it's mirror. Also, as per the myth, the only time Raridan really shows up anymore is if you encroach and climb to the top of his rock, and he never harms anyone, but come on. We're in Supernatural-land… this is more fun. *winks* So yeah._

_This all came after I snuffled around RainyLemon's page over on LiveJournal, and found this orphaned prompt: Supernatural/Pre-Series/Gen, please. Family drama meets hypothermia. Sam and Dean get separated from Papa Winchester during a hunt. Dean saves Sam from the awful whatever, but loses his own footing doing so, going down a steep hill and into a river. Sam finds him downstream, breaks into the first place he can find, and tries to warm him up, treat whatever injuries he may have gotten in the fall. During this, freezing Dean, with blue lips and chattering teeth, tells Sam he knows he's been applying to colleges. Dean perhaps expresses a multitude of emotions, among them a desire to keep his family together and to not be left behind. Dad can show up or not as you wish._

_Yeah. How can I NOT do that one? Hopefully, I hit somewhere on the target… *crosses fingers* So here we go:_

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><p>John eased the Impala off the shoulder, clear from any possible traffic, and killed the engine easily. He caught a glimpse of confusion in the green gaze of his eldest, and raised a brow. "Problem?"<p>

"We stopping already?" Dean asked, ignoring the snort from the back.

"Yup. We hike it in from here. Don't want to get too close, not with the snow that's predicted." The Impala was a great girl, a helluva tank really, but that didn't mean that she did all that great on icy, snowy conditions. He pocketed the keys before rooting in the glove box, pulling out two Park Ranger IDs for himself and Dean, and a college ID for Sam. Dean didn't bother with more than a precursory glance at the name before stuffing it into his pocket, already opening the door.

The night was cold, the last vestiges of autumn trying valiantly to hold on against the onslaught of winter, despite the fine layer of snow on the fallen leaves. He stamped his feet as he made his way to the trunk, opening it and propping open the hidden compartment. It was damned cold.

"Alright boys, tell me what we're doing." He didn't bother glancing up, easily ejecting the magazine of his favorite, ensuring it was full before sliding it home again.

Sam's tone bordered on insolent when he answered, a heavy sigh before the words. "Some stupid wolf ghost. Get in, get to the top of the rock, salt, burn, get home. Maybe get some homework done in time," he muttered lowly, yelping as Dean stomped his foot.

"Show a little respect, will ya? This thing isn't exactly a normal hunt. You saw what it did to Anastasia. We don't know just how corporeal this wolf is."

Dean was right. Legend was just a simple wolf, that showed up every fall on the same day, and slaughtered any hunters that were in the forest. No one had ever really seen it and escaped, except for a single woman. Anastasia ran a wolf rehabilitation center in Kentucky, just across the river from their current location in Southern Ohio, and the scars that twisted their way up and across her hands and arms were pretty severe. More than a normal ghost could do. She swore that it had been real, not a ghost like the legends had all said. Except… there hadn't been any wolves in the area since Raridan, whom they were going to put an end to tonight.

And he died over 200 years ago.

He handed the box of matches to Dean, and the gasoline went in Sam's pack. "Your brother's right, Sam. We go over these hunts for a reason. Now, what's the plan?"

Sam rolled his eyes, but stood a little straighter, eyes locked on John's. "We break up. There are two possible locations of this Raridan's Rock, about two miles apart, and each about six miles in. We get in, get to the top, salt and burn any remains we can find, and get out."

John nodded, handed over the flares to Sam. "And if that doesn't work?"

"We send a flare, and get to the cabin that's about three miles in. Wait there until regrouped, and _then_ get the hell out of Dodge."

"Good." He finished loading the hip flasks with salt, distributed them to the boys. "Now, Sam, you and Dean are hitting the one on this side of the river. I'll cross, and take the other rock."

"No sir. I can handle this on my own. You and Sam should…" Dean trailed off, seemingly realizing what he was suggesting as John leveled a glare at him.

"Dean, you're actually backing up your brother on this one. Sam's old enough that he should be able to do this on his own. Sweet and simple hunt. We just don't know enough to really make it safe." Dean nodded, shouldered his bag a bit higher. "Alright. Be careful. We don't know just how solid this thing is… salt may not work on it. That's why you got the big guns."

He hated splitting away from the boys. The father-part of him wanted to shield his boys, the Marine knew the best protection he could offer was to be a hardass, and make damned sure his babies could handle anything the world could hurl at them. He watched Dean double check his own weapon, and nodded firmly before shutting the Impala's hood firmly. "Hop to it boys."

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><p>Sam knew there was trouble when they scrambled the last few feet of the rock, and heard a low growl echo over the snarl of the river below. The little boy in him that he'd been pushing down more and more wanted nothing more than to close his eyes and pretend the monster didn't exist. The click of claws on stone though, made that idea a pretty bad one. "Dean…"<p>

"Yeah, I hear him. Can't see him yet though." He felt the warm presence of his brother at his shoulder, and nodded. The legend said that his bones were up here somewhere, they had to be. Sprits stuck around because there was something corporeal to keep them tethered here. Though, exposed to the elements for two hundred years, he knew there wouldn't be much. And the thick layer of leaves and detritus closer to the back of the rock could be holding the last bits of bone that were keeping him here. He tightened his grip on the bag of salt, breath and heart quickening as the growl shifted around. "Sam, get to finding those bones. Salt and burn baby, salt and burn."

Sam nodded, eyes scanning the darkness for any trace of the wolf as he edged closer to the back. The way the rock was positioned, and the fact that the legend said the wolves went up to it, indicated it was more likely to the back than the front. Unless, of course, the wolves jumped off the edge into the river, and wouldn't _that_ just be Winchester luck? He saw a gleam of white under the brown muck of leaves, and was just pushing aside the foliage when he felt the huff of breath on his hair. He froze, eyes sliding to the side to meet a wild, golden gaze. It felt like time stopped as he stared face to face with Old Raridan, his eyes entirely too intelligent for a ghost. The thing looked _real_, more so than most ghosts they'd salted, and he had a suspicion that if he reached out, the fur he'd touch would be coarse and rough and totally, undeniably real.

"Sam, drop!" He obeyed instantly, body dropping without mental input, and covered his ears as Dean's gun fired, the wolf yelping and snarling instantly. And it was a scramble, to shove aside the leaves and reveal the two fully intact, perfectly preserved (and how the hell did that happen?) skeletons, one laying diagonally across the bottom one, and he fumbled for his salt, dumping it over the bones as he heard the yelps and shots behind him. He glanced up, making sure Dean was okay, even if he looked pissed as hell, backing slowly towards the edge of the rock to keep Raridan in view, and prevent him from being able to get around.

He dumped the gasoline, and was striking the matches frantically when he heard the distinctive click of an empty magazine.

Raridan seemed to know what that sound meant, tongue lolling out in an absurd parody of a grin as he lowered his front end, haunches in the air wiggling as he eyed Dean. The match lit a second before the wolf launched, and the result would have been beautiful if either boy had been capable of paying attention. The wolf launched off the granite, disappearing in a shower of red and orange sparks in the height of his attack, a howl trailing off in the dark.

Dean, however, had braced for the assault, arms up as he slid his left foot back for a better brace. And with nothing to brace against, overcompensated, and there was a split second for their eyes to connect, horror bright in both, as Dean's foot slid into empty space. Then time kicked in hard, and Dean disappeared, and Sam scrambled to the edge, screaming for his brother. The fall was a long distance, and the river was pissed, swollen and raging with the recent thaw before the newest snow, and swallowed up his brother in a moment, covering him completely.

"Shit. Shit shit shit." Sam took a deep breath, ignoring the shaking of his hands as he lit another match, setting off the flare before making his way back off the rock. It resulted in more lost skin and bruises than he would normally accept, but with his mind chanting statistics of drownings and hypothermia and shock and CPR, his only concern was finding Dean, and getting to the cabin Dad had said was around here.

The river bent shortly after the twin rocks, and there was a shallower area, coated in thick, rounded river rocks, and his mind first and foremost latched onto the form of his brother, sopping wet and shivering, laying on the rocky ground. It was only after another step that the slender wolf standing over him registered, straddling the prone form.

Rage steadied his hand as he brought the firearm around, aiming directly between the amber eyes. "Get away from him." The wolf cocked its head, eyes curious, and leaned down, eyes still locked on his, to nuzzle the blonde under it. "I mean it. Get away from him."

Dean moaned, shifting with a grimace, and the wolf bit into the thick collar of his jacket and tugged him an inch closer, eyes watching Sam. "Yeah, I got it, you saved him. Now back the fuck off." It sighed, offering a last lick to Dean's temple, cleaning the thin trickle of blood before it stepped off, eyes drifting to the orange blaze on top of the rocks. She sighed, closing her eyes as the sparks enveloped her form, and it was then that Sam realized it was the female, Raridan's mate, and realized the fire must have burned down enough to get to the lower skeleton. "Thank you."

He wasted no time in dropping to his knees, fingers firm against Dean's neck, and counted off the beats, eyes flicking between his watch and Dean's face. "You're okay," he murmured, sighing in relief as Dean scrunched his face, groaning as he twisted away from the press of Sam's fingers. "Dean, you with me?"

Dean nodded, blinking owlishly in the snow. Sam knew the noise he heard was his name, and he knew what Dean was asking.

"Yeah, it's me. I'm okay, you're the one that took the polar plunge dude. Think you knocked yourself pretty good though." He ghosted his fingers over the bump on his brother's temple that was slowly turning red, a trickle of blood frozen in place from where it had clotted in the cold. "How many of me are you seeing?"

"Just the one." Dean pushed himself to his hands and knees, pausing and breathing deeply for a few moments before sitting back on his heels, swaying. "God," he groaned, pressing the heel of his hand firmly to his skull. "Feels like a damned brass band."

"No doubt. Come on, up." Sam snuck under Dean's arm, gripping his wrist firmly as he settled the weight across his shoulders, making it more comfortable. "Sent off a flare for Dad, but he'll have our asses if we're not in the cabin. Hopefully we can get you dried off and warm." Dean nodded, hissing a split second later and clenching his eyes shut. "Yeah, let's not move your head, okay?"

He tried to not snicker as Dean instantly nodded again.

He really didn't expect the cold to sink into Dean as quick as it did, his brother shivering and shuddering in the grip of his arm, leaning more and more heavily into Sam as his steps started to slow down and stumble. "Come on man, keep moving. This is a really bad spot to stop." Dean shook his head, mouth pressed tight as he twisted away from Sam, and hunched over to vomit, gagging hard as the dirty river water spilled over the snow. And when he peeled a half rotten leaf off his tongue, heaving again, Sam couldn't really blame him. His own stomach started churning, and he swallowed carefully. "Yeah, let's keep moving, huh?"

It wasn't much further to the cabin, and it took a well-placed kick to pop the door open, the quiet and serenity of the building a startling difference to the wind that had started screaming outside. Sam blinked, surprised. He hadn't realized just how windy it had gotten. He settled Dean against the stone hearth, and quickly set a trashcan nearby before wrapping his brother in the quilt off the bed. "Stay put, I'm gonna grab some stuff, okay?" Dean nodded, eyes closed, and he rapped sharply on Dean's shoulder. "Stay awake man. I mean it."

The closet yielded another blanket, a space heater, and a stack of towels, which he thanked God for long and hard. He wrestled Dean to his feet, stripping off the wet and muddy clothes before toweling him off roughly, encouraged by the hisses as the blood returned to toes and fingers. He left the last towel bundled around his brother before snugging the quilts tightly around him, and lit the space heater. "With any luck, there's some firewood."

Well, Winchester luck had decided to take a holiday, and there was a small neat stack by the back door, which he quickly threw into the fireplace and lit before getting fishing out a bottle of water from his duffle. He frowned at it, confounded that he had actually remembered to grab it in the midst of his panic to get to Dean, and shrugged.

"You awake?" Dean made a contented affirmative noise, shivering hard in the blankets, and Sam grinned. "Human furnace here," he offered, chuckling as Dean twisted fingers in his coat and tugged him closer. "Hold on, let me get the coat off. It's cold." He didn't waste much time in wrapping himself around Dean, flinching from the cold fingers that edged under his tee and burrowed against his skin. "Jesus Dean, a little warning next time." He felt Dean's chuckle against his chest, and quirked a smile, wetting the corner of the towel with the bottle of water before offering it to Dean.

He was gently scrubbing off the last of the blood when he heard Dean rasp "We make a pretty good team, Sammy." Sam frowned, catching Dean's chin to get a better glimpse of his eyes. The pupils weren't that uneven, not when you factored in the firelight.

"Man, did you hit your head harder than I thought?" he teased, stomach going cold when it didn't get a reactive smirk from his brother, just a stillness that seemed fragile. "Yeah, we do. Always have. Always will."

"Then why are you trying to break it up?" The argument was on his lips when Dean turned a little more, burrowing further into Sam as he shivered hard, and the firelight lit his features more fully. The green gaze was knowing, that older brother sense that had gotten Sam caught more than once, for no other reason than Dean just _knew_.

He sighed, tugging his brother closer, trying to impress what he was trying to say. "Dean, I'm not trying to break anything up. Especially not us."

"I saw the envelope to Duke, man."

"Ever think it was me saying no?"

Dean snorted, which really, considering how hard he was shivering and chattering, should have been hilarious. But the moths twisting in Sam's guts didn't make it seem that funny. "I'm not stupid, Sam. Duke's a bitch of a school, and if you've got their envelope, then they're looking at recruiting you."

The logs popping and snapping filled the silence for awhile, until Sam tugged his brother even tighter against him, closing his eyes wearily. "Doesn't mean I'm breaking anything up. Not the family, and especially not us, Dean. Couldn't happen."

"Yeah, it could. If you left, Sammy, then yeah, it could. What's so damned important at college, anyway?" His tone is weary, exhausted in a way Sam can't really fathom, and has the desolate edge of a man without hope. And suddenly the irrational anger Dean had been wielding at him the last week made sense.

"I dunno, man. Why not? I can hunt with you guys over breaks, if there's a hunt in the area you guys are doing, I can help out. It's only four years. Then I'd be back." His brother didn't say anything to that, jaw clenched as he shivered miserably, even though the shudders had started to slow as the sweat started to trickle down Sam's spine.

The quiet dragged out for awhile longer, until Dean shifted uncomfortably. "Dad's talking about starting to do his own hunts. That's why you were taking point on this one, and he went solo. It's um, like a training exercise." He swallowed hard, eyes locked on the dancing flames that always made him uneasy, no matter how small or contained. "He's gonna be pissed if he finds out about this, Sammy."

"You can't tell him. Dean, promise me you won't tell him." The elder Winchester just sucked his lower lip in, teeth chattering against the flesh, eyes distant. "Dean. Come on man, you can't tell him. I'd be doing PT until I'm fucking thirty. Come on."

He tried to convince himself that the shuddering sigh Dean released was due to the cold. "We're all that's left, Sammy. And Dad's going his own way, and if you leave me too? What the hell am I supposed to do here, huh?" He clenched his jaw, slammed his eyes shut, trying to work a hand loose enough to scrub away the traitorous tear that slid loose. "Damnit."

Dean was pathetically glad when he heard the door rattle roughly for a second before popping open, their Dad snow-covered and fierce as always. He caught Sam's dark glare for a second, just before John asked how it went.

"Could have been better sir, but we torched 'em. Raridan is done."

"Good." He paused, glancing between his boys. There was a tension there that was unusual, and he caught a brief glimpse of the red tinting the eyes of his eldest, and frowned. "Anything I need to know about?"

"No sir," was Dean's prompt answer. He may not like it, but he'd keep Sammy's secret a little bit longer.

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><p><em>Over on my Livejournal page, I have links to photos of Raridan's Rock, and a link to the original legend. ^_^<em>


End file.
